


Roses

by JulietsEmoPhase



Series: Dralentine's Day 2015 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Draco, Boys Kissing, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, My First Smut, Scars, Sectumsempra, Smut, Top Harry, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietsEmoPhase/pseuds/JulietsEmoPhase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has encountered Draco Malfoy numerous times so far during his Auror career, but on their first mission paired together events don't exactly go to plan and they soon find themselves trapped together for a night. </p><p>Post-Hogwarts, non-epilogue compliant. Smut. Part 1 of 2 of the Dralentine's Day Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I am SO EXCITED to finally be able to share this with you! Back in February, the awesomeness that is @ourloveislegendrarry (aka Sara) pretty much brought the Drarry Squad together by creating Dralentine’s Day. A bunch of us got together to make gifts to swap on Feb 14th, much like Secret Santa. The only prompts were “a heart shaped box of chocolates and a love letter written by Draco.”
> 
> I had only written one Drarry fic before this, and never attempted smut, so this was kind of a case of jumping in with both feet and hoping for the best! I really loved writing it, but more touching was that my recipient (the gorgeous Leia aka @diydrarry) absolutely loved it and a lot of other people had ridiculously nice things to say about it as well. Phew!
> 
> In order to respect the ethos of the day, the identities of everyone involved remained a secret…until now. Now, I am free to share what is still one of my favourite Drarry stories with all you lovelies, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Big hugs and love xJx
> 
> PS, If you want to check out all the wonderful entries from the day, please check out the dedicated account @dralentines-day over on Tumblr :-)

Roses

 

   The wind was bitter and unrelenting as Harry trudged up the craggy rocks, careful not to lose his footing and twist an ankle.  If he got in trouble out here, who knew how long it would take before anyone could come to help, even with the aid of magic.

   He was way out at the northern edge of the Scottish Highlands, towards the Orkney Islands, so far up that there was currently no sign of civilisation as far as the eye could see.  Just rolling hills so high they could almost be considered mountains, covered with weather hardened heather and swathes of dull green grass that looked like it had been fighting it out for sunshine from behind the ominous clouds above.  It wasn’t raining exactly, but the air was heavy with moisture and it clung to Harry’s clothes and skin.  He’d charmed his glasses to repel the water so he could still see, which was fortunate as he persevered up what might generously be called a path, but was in all honesty just a goat trail that even the goats had forgotten about.  Every step threatened to unsettle his footing and more than once he’d had to catch himself from a stumble.

   “Fuck!”  As if on cue, Harry’s travelling companion gracelessly pin wheeled his arms as his feet threatened to betray him, but he managed to find his balance before hitting the dirt.

   Harry smirked good naturedly.  “I told you not to wear those boots Malfoy,” he called over his shoulder, the wind threatening to swallow up his words.  Malfoy heard him though, judging from the two fingers he flipped him.

   “Sod off Potter,” he shouted back, but it was lacking in any real rancour. 

   This wasn’t the first time Harry had found himself working with Draco Malfoy; the Auror division often collaborated with others like the Curse Breakers, but this was the first time they’d been paired solely by themselves.  Ron had had a field day at Harry’s expense, but the truth was Harry wasn’t all that bothered.  Sure, on a personal level he’d much rather be working with his best friend or any number of his other colleagues, but Malfoy was good at what he did, and in all the years since they’d left school their animosity had dwindled considerably.  Plus, Harry had to admit he was seriously easy on the eye now he’d grown up a bit.

   “Oi!” Malfoy cried from behind him.  “How much longer?  And don’t give me that ‘we’re nearly there’ shit, you said that an hour ago.”

   That didn’t mean they were necessarily nice to one another.

   Harry stopped and pulled out his wand as well the map he’d been working from.  It struggled against his grip in the fierce wind, so Malfoy came up alongside him and grabbed the other side to steady it into a relatively flat shape.  Harry held up his wand and gave it silent commands, his cloak whipping distractingly around his ankles as the damp mist clawed at his face.

   “I actually don’t think we’re far this time,” he said loudly, even though Draco was next to him.  He pointed at the map in the waning afternoon sun.  It was only around four o’clock, but the light was starting to dip that time of year anyway and the grey omnipresent clouds gave the landscape an even gloomier tinge. 

   Malfoy looked from the map, up the hillside, and back to the map.  “Yeah,” he conceded.  “I think you’re right.  It looks like it could just be over in that next valley.”

   Harry nodded and pocketed the map.  He flashed a quick warming charm on himself and Draco before slipping his wand away again, and carrying on along their goat trail.

   “Are we sure they’re going to be there?” Malfoy asked from just behind Harry.

   He shrugged.  “We at least know they _were_ here,” he said, indicating their intended destination over the rise.  “How else do you explain such wide ranging apparition restrictions?  And if we can see anything once we’ll get to the top, we’ll know they made it unplotable – who does that to a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere?”

   He glanced behind to see Malfoy nodding, hands shoved into the pockets of his tunic despite the risk of tripping.  “I just don’t want this to be a waste of time,” he said, cocking his eyebrow.

   Neither did Harry.  “Hopefully we’ll find something, if not actually the Pontiacs.”

   The Pontiacs – or ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ as some of Harry’s other Muggle Born colleagues had dubbed them – were a couple believed to have originated in France but were now on a rampage around Europe, terrorising Muggles and the magical community alike with their violent and disrupting actions.  They had a penchant for blowing stuff up; pubs, banks, buses – they’d even taken out a florists two weeks ago for some unknown reason – but while the Muggle media was scrabbling around trying to find a religion or political organisation to blame, Harry couldn’t help but feel the pair were just anarchists.  Revelling in their own chaos, unsettling the quiet that had befallen the wizarding world in the years following Voldemort’s demise. 

   Harry despised them.  The profile they’d built up suggested a man and woman who delighted in nothing more than their own amusement, their own power at being able to wreak havoc on innocent, oblivious people just because they could.  They were cowards.

   Harry had spearheaded the investigation, and this was the best lead they’d had so far, so it was natural for him to go investigate personally.  But the Pontiacs had a nasty habit of leaving booby traps and unpleasant curses in their wake, hence why the Curse Breaker division had got involved. Draco Malfoy was one of their best, he had brilliant intuition.  Largely, Harry suspected, because he was such a sneaky bastard himself.  Harry would never admit this out loud, but his skills were invaluable, so he was happy to have him by his side as they inched their way closer to apprehending these fuckers. 

   Harry actually quite enjoyed the few chances he and Malfoy had had to work together, the odd social gathering they’d found themselves at.  Harry had not forgotten what Draco had done during the war, what had been done to him; the good, the bad and the downright ugly.  He knew what it was like to have other people manipulating you, and he was keen to let go of childish grudges and move on.  Even if that did just mean a good professional relationship.  And the chance to admire those outrageous cheekbones. 

   The two men reached the peak and looked down at the vista below.  “Ha!” Draco exclaimed in delight, and jabbed a finger at the small spec in the distance that could very well have been a cottage. 

   Harry nodded.  “Looks likely,” he said, pulling out his wand and casting several spells to ascertain the situation.  Malfoy did likewise, and they stood lost in their own magic for a few minutes.

   “There’s heavy fields hanging over the structure,” Draco said as the wind howled around them, intensified at the naked tip of the hill.  “Far too much dark magic for some old granny.”

   Harry concurred and began the decent, keeping his wand out this time as they approached the cottage.  Who knew how far the wards stretched out?

   The report had just started out as a missing person to begin with.  A young witch was concerned that her grandmother had been uncontactable for too long.  When the investigation had begun to dig, it became clear quickly that Mary Hathaway was not only unresponsive to attempts to communicate, but that her property had vanished off any kind of map.  Then other reports began flying in of a surge of magical activity in the surrounding area where Zoe Hathaway swore her gran should have been living, and several grisly and inexplicable Muggle deaths had lead Harry to conclude this was an avenue his team was worth investigating.

   He and Malfoy had apparated as close to the cottage’s alleged location as they could, but Ms Hathaway was only able to give them rough directions as she always just flooed there herself.  As they stalked closer and closer to the little house though, Harry began to feel sure they were on to something. 

   “Who the fuck would live out here?” Malfoy demanded, disgruntled as they approached.  Twilight was hanging over their heads and there was no sign of life as the cottage crept nearer and nearer to them.  No lights, no movement.  Harry surmised there was no one inside or they were just hiding.  In either case, he knew he and Malfoy couldn’t let their guard down, there could be all manner of unpleasantness lurking around still. 

   “It’s a good place to hide out,” Harry replied.  “If Hathaway is some paranoid recluse, it makes like much easier for the Pontiacs.”

  The path had widened and he and Malfoy were now walking side by side, wands out and alert, muscles tense.  “I doubt it made life much easier for old Mrs Hathaway,” Draco murmured. 

   Harry cast an invisibly spell on them both as they got closer.  Some part of his brain twitched, thinking of the times he, Hermione and Ron would run around school under his dad’s cloak, and he couldn’t help but grin.

   “Having fun Potter?” Malfoy drawled.

   “Immensely,” Harry replied, feeling the smallest twinge of comradery.  His heart rate had quickened at the prospect of finding a lead inside the cottage, even if it was a small one.  He wanted these two very badly.

   Draco took the lead as they approached.  Harry could feel several incantations looming over the property, but he followed Malfoy’s lead as he dismantled them one by one.  He didn’t want to step on his toes, and trusted he knew more than himself in this instance.  Even if he practically had to jam his hands into his pockets to stop himself interfering.  This must how Hermione lived her whole life, he mused.

   “There we go Potter,” Malfoy goadingly.  “All safe for the Chosen One to enter.”

   “I could have done that in my sleep,” Harry griped, but Malfoy still looked smug all the same. 

   They crept towards the front door, which was innocuous looking enough.  Harry was prepared to battle down the door, but it popped open at the turn of a handle.  “That’s a bad sign,” Malfoy said with a raised eyebrow. 

   Harry met his gaze, exhilaration thrilling through him.  “Let’s see what’s inside.”

 

***

 

   Harry cast the softest of _Lumos_ spells as he stepped inside the creaking hallway.  Shadows danced as he and Malfoy eased themselves inside, eyes wide for any flicker of movement.  The cottage only held a few rooms, and a cursive look over determined that they were alone, at least for now.  The living room was the first doorway on their right, and it was practically destroyed.  Coffee table, sofa, bookcases, all torn apart and littered across the swirling floral pattern of the threadbare carpet.  There was a single, neat blood splatter up one of the walls, the dried rusty brown droplets stark against the cream wallpaper. 

   “Bad sign,” Malfoy repeated, and carried on up the hall.  A glance into the bedroom on the left showed them a bed stripped of its sheets and not much else, and a bathroom next to that with white and paisley tiles and kittens adorning every ornamentation.  The kitchen ended the tour of the cottage, with a back door leading out into the open Highlands.  On the table was a large heart shaped box, its lid strewn on the side and half the chocolates inside gone.  Beside this was an open bottle half full of flat champagne and two flutes with only the dregs left at the bottom of their glasses. 

   Malfoy inspected the bottle.  “What a bloody waste,” he muttered, before going on to inspect the rest of the room.  “Do you reckon they got interrupted?”

   Harry looked at the box of chocolates, then around the rest of the room and decided to drop the invisibility spell and turn on some lights as they were clearly alone.  Several bunches of red roses peeked out from vases and lose petals had been littered on the counter tops.  He thought of the florist that had been attacked, and touched one of the flower heads.  It must have been enchanted to still be thriving, and even though its origins were undoubtedly dark, Harry couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty. 

   “It was Valentine’s Day on Saturday,” he said.  “About the time we started investigating.  Perhaps they realised we got wind of them and legged it.”

   Malfoy sneered, a true lip curl the likes Harry hadn’t seen on him for years.  “Valentine’s Day,” he scoffed.  “You really think they took time out of maiming and plundering for a bit of nooky nooky?”

   “They’re narcissists,” said Harry with a shrug, documenting all he could with his wand.  All the readings were already being relayed back to the Ministry in London.  “I think they’re exactly the kind of people to stop for a moment and bask in their own glory.”

   Draco shook his head.  _“Roses are red,”_ he chimed in a mocking tone.  _“Violets are blue.  I’m a mad psychopath, and you are too!”_

   Harry’s mouth curled into half a smile, but he didn’t say anything.   Instead, he made his way back into the living room, standing carefully so as not to disturb any of the evidence.  It was clear a great deal had transpired in this room.  “Do you think we’re looking at a murder here?” he asked aloud as Malfoy came in to join him.

    He held his wand out and muttered a few spells as Harry waited.  “There were some defensive spells cast within the last week,” he said.  “I’d say Mrs Hathaway put up a bit of a fight, but not much.”  He pulled a face.  “Poor old bag,” he said with a modicum of sympathy. 

   Harry had guessed as much.  He supposed the Pontiacs had surprised her, disposed of her, then used her house as a hideout until they had been caught out.  “We should check around back.  See if there’s anything, they might have even buried her for all we know.” 

   He made to go for the front door, hand reaching out for the handle, when Malfoy startled him.

   _“NO!”_ he shouted, and Harry stilled, hand poised as his head whipped back.  Draco’s eyes were wide a saucers as he stood, frozen, hands up as if to grab Harry.

   “What?” he hissed.

   Malfoy slowly stepped forwards, his gaze never leaving the door, as he slowly began to swish his wand back and forth.  “Fuck,” he whispered.  “Fuck, shit, bollocks, arse.”

   “What!” Harry demanded.  Malfoy didn’t answer him right away, just kept working his magic over the door.

   “They jigged it,” he said, dropping his hands and turning to Harry with a mixture of annoyance, despair and downright fury on his face.  “They bloody jigged it.  We can’t get out.”

   Harry glanced at the door, then back at Draco.  “How so?  What happens if I turn the handle?”

   Malfoy took a breath, then made a sound like an explosion at the back of his throat whilst blossoming his fingers out and flinging his hands apart.

   “Right,” said Harry, his innards clenching.  “Big fiery death.  Back door?”

    Malfoy looked towards the kitchen and shrugged.  “We can try, but I think it’s the same.  I think we triggered it when we entered, and now we can’t leave.”

   Harry blinked.  “What, ever?”

   Malfoy rolled his eyes.  “Well yeah, I guess if there was literally no one else in the world.  But lucky for us there are like seven billion people who are not in this house.  I guess it’s to stop people following them.”

   Harry ground his teeth and stomped back into the kitchen to check their other exit, but it yielded exactly the same results.  “Cock it!” cried Malfoy in frustration.  “Right, fine, let’s check the fireplace, see if we can’t contact anyone.”

   The settling sinking sensation in Harry’s stomach really hoped they could. 

 

***

 

   Malfoy had deemed the fireplace safe to communicate but not to Floo.  Harry wasn’t surprised but he wasn’t happy as he flung the powder into the flames before thrusting his head in.

   “Ron!” he cried, looking out at the image of his partner engrossed in paperwork at his desk.

   The redhead slopped his tea before snapping his head down at the grate.  “Harry,” he cried happily.  “What’s going on, you find the house?”

   “Yeah we found it alright,” he griped, then proceeded to explain everything that had happened.  He could hear Malfoy’s enraged pacing behind him, his knuckles cracking, his teeth gnashing. 

   “Hang on a minute mate,” said Ron, hastily writing a memo.  “I need to get a few more bods down here, that sounds serious.”

   “Tell me about it,” agreed Harry.

   _“Roses are red,”_ Draco recited behind his back.  _“Violets are blue.  We’re royally fucked, how about you?”_

   “Stop being a drama queen,” Harry hissed at him.

   Ron arched an eyebrow.  “Malfoy?”

   Harry nodded, and Ron shook his head in commiseration

   Harry waited as the room filled up with a few more people, all asking questions to his head bobbing in the fireplace of his and Ron’s office. 

   “What are they saying?” Malfoy demanded, but Harry waved him off, not wanting to have two conversations at once.  But Malfoy was impatient.  “Potter?” he snapped, and gave his leg a not so gentle kick.

   “Malfoy!” Harry snapped, drawing his face back out of the flames, just as the head of the Automated Hex department was outlining his theorem.

   The flames went out immediately, and the chimney bricked up, leaving both men blinking at it a little stupidly.

   “Uh oh,” said Malfoy.

   “What do you mean ‘uh oh?’” Harry asked, not liking the sound of it one bit. 

   Malfoy looked guilty.  “Well I did think it was rather generous of those bastards to let us have access to the fireplace.  Maybe they realised their mistake and blocked up the network as soon as your head was clear.”

   Harry’s eyebrows shot up.  “You mean, you think they’re monitoring us?”

   Draco looked unsure.  “They could be.  They could do that from literally anywhere in the world.  Or it could be an automated reaction.  I don’t know.”  He started giving the fireplace another look as Harry fumed and debated the possibilities. 

   “You had to kick me, didn’t you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

   “You were ignoring me,” Draco replied petulantly.  “Did you at least learn anything?”

   Harry sighed.  “It doesn’t look great, not at the moment anyway.  The apparition distance looks to have increased, and there’s probably more hexes around the perimeter now, so it’s going to take several hours for anyone to get close to us.”

   Malfoy ruffled his hair and stepped back from the fireplace, careful not to step on any of the debris littered around the room.  “Well,” he said, brushing his hands and giving Harry an apologetic look.  “At least we’re safe for the meantime, as long as we don’t try and leave, and they know we’re here, so they’re get to us eventually.” 

   “Eventually?” Harry found himself repeating, his temper deflating into moroseness.

   Malfoy shook his head.  “Yeah, I guess we’re stuck here for now.  So…” He tilted his head to the side and considered.  “Cup of tea?”

 

***

 

   Draco was keeping himself busy, Harry noticed.  Making tea for him and coffee for himself, flicking his wand about, documenting his readings, scribing a report, never standing still.  Harry on the other hand had taken their temporary imprisonment a little calmer, working methodically through the small space of the cottage, recording his own findings as he slowly sipped his tea.  It was only when he’d been half way down the mug that he’d realised Draco had remembered he took two sugars.  How had he known that?

   He came back into the kitchen where they’d set up camp in and around the roses, to find a fresh mug of tea waiting for him.  “Thanks,” he said with raised eyebrows as Draco sipped his own hot coffee, propped up against the counter, reading back his notes.

   He looked up and blinked, until he realised Harry meant the tea.  “Oh, no problem,” he said.  “I was thinking, how much do you think we can move stuff around?”

   Harry considered, before fishing into his bag he’d dropped by the chair that he’d hung his cloak and jacket from.  “If you let me take some photos,” he said, pulling out his camera.  “I can add some visual documentation to go along with our readings.  We can’t be expected not to touch anything if we’re stuck here all night, and I doubt the investigation squad will pull much more than we already have.”

   Draco placed his parchment and mug down, and came over to inspect Harry’s camera.  “How’s that work then?” he asked, curious.  Harry offered it to him to take a look, a little proud. 

   “Hermione and I developed it,” he said.  Hermione had done all the tricky bits truth be told.  “It’s similar to a Muggle digital camera.  It’ll relay the images directly to the printer I’ve got set back up in the office.  Quicker than owl post, sort of like a fax machine – you get the idea.”

   Draco turned it over in his hands, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  “Impressive work Potter,” he said. 

   Harry liked the way that made him feel, but instead he rolled his eyes and feigned shock.  “Did you just give me a compliment Malfoy?” he asked.

   Malfoy’s eyes sparkled as he handed the camera back.  “Don’t be ridiculous Potter,” he teased.  “We both know Granger would have done all the hard work.”

   “You got me,” Harry said graciously, happy to give his friend her credit, and began to move around the room.  “I don’t think we should disturb the lounge.  But I reckon we can clear some of the clutter out of here once I’ve taken some snaps.”

   “Oh thank Merlin,” huffed Draco.  “Do it fast, I want to evaporate all these bloody flowers.”

   Harry lowered his camera and took in all the dozens and dozens of roses.  “I guess they are in the way,” he said, only hesitating a fraction.  “But, I don’t know, maybe we could keep some of them, on the window sill?”

   Draco gave him a wicked little grin.  “You massive poof,” he goaded, crossing his arms.  “We’re being held hostage by mad criminals, and you want to keep the place looking pretty.”

   Harry scowled and carried on taking pictures from as many angles as he could to get a good panorama.  “Oh shut up,” he said as he shooed him out of his way, but it was lacking in any real malice.  In truth, he was pretty pleased Draco was ribbing him about his sexuality, it meant he was okay with it.  In his experience when people stubbornly ignored it, then Harry had to watch his back.  “They are beautiful, and it’s not their fault they belonged to maniacs.  It just seems unfair to destroy them.”

   Malfoy sighed dramatically.  “Fine,” he said magnanimously.  “I won’t kill your precious flowers, but at least let me tidy them.” 

   Harry took a couple more snaps, turning on the spot, making sure he hadn’t missed anything, before responding.  “Okay,” he said, smiling genuinely, making Draco roll his eyes.

   “Don’t go all doe-eyed on me Potter, people will talk.”  Harry chuckled and left him to it.

   The bathroom and bedroom hardly had much worth noting, but Harry was just as industrious with his coverage, capturing every inch before moving into the corridor.  “Weasley is going to be bored stiff looking at a million images of this old lady’s plate collections and peeling wallpaper,” Malfoy’s voice floated out from the kitchen.  Harry chuckled again.

   “Actually the photos appear in a locked drawer,” he called back. “I can tell no one’s looked at them yet as my light’s still red.”  He tapped the display light on top of the camera, even though Draco couldn’t see.  “It’ll turn green once I opened the drawer.  Things have a habit of wandering off if you’re not careful in my department.  He’ll have to wait until I’m back with the key for all this excitement.”

   He wasn’t sure what Draco was still doing in the kitchen as he moved into the living room, but it was put from his mind as he took in the scene once again.  The truth was he was probably standing where an elderly lady was brutally murdered, and as much as Harry had learnt to insulate himself over the years against death’s horror, he could at least be respectful whilst he was in here.

   Sombrely, he spent the next several minutes taking extra care to capture every tiny detail of the aftermath in the lounge, then once he was done closed the door and took a breath, letting it go from his mind.  There was nothing more he could do for her now, and he had himself to worry about. 

   He wandered back into the kitchen, curious to see what Draco had been up to, and preoccupied with how they were going to waste away the next several hours before help came.  He stopped in his tracks when he realised what Malfoy had been busying himself with. 

   “What’s this?” he asked.

   Draco looked up from the chopping board.  “What does it look like?” he said innocently.

   He’d done a good job corralling the hoard of roses, lining up a number of the vases along the window sill like Harry had suggested, framing the view out into the night, clearing up the loose petals and vanishing the rest.  He’d given the kitchen a quick clean, washed up the champagne flutes and slotted the lid for the chocolates underneath the box, clearing most of the room on the dining table.  A cold looking tumbler glass with clear liquid, ice and lime was waiting for Harry where his tea had greeted him before, and Draco was stood at the counter by the hob, a flame going underneath a large pan, water bubbling away in another.

   “Dinner?” Harry said, a little stumped. 

   Draco sighed and wiped his hands on a towel before picking up his own glass.  “Well,” he said, turning and facing Harry.  “We’re stuck here and I’m really quite pissed off about that.  I don’t like being told what to do, especially not by raving lunatics.”  Harry thought of Voldemort spending a year at Malfoy Manor, and figured that wasn’t too hard to understand.  So he nodded and Draco continued.  “You said we were alright to move stuff around as long as we left the living room alone, so I thought, fuck it.  The pantry is full, there’s even gin and tonic, so I’m making the most of it and was generous enough to include you in my scheme.”  He winked at Harry and indicated his glass.  “So drink your G’n’T and stop bitching.”

   Harry placed his camera down and picked up the tumbler instead.  “I’m not bitching,” he assured him, holding up the glass.  “Just surprised.  Cheers.”

   They clinked glasses, and Draco turned back to the oil heating in his pan, adding the onions he’d been chopping and making them sputter.  He smacked the knife on the pan’s edge to get the last few pieces off, then started on the garlic as the aroma filled the air.  “This isn’t a date though,” he smirked, glancing over his shoulder, and Harry felt just a touch of heat rise in his cheeks.

   “Of course it isn’t,” he scowled.  “Don’t be a prat.”

   Malfoy sighed.  “I don’t know Potter,” he said in dreamy voice.  “A handsome fellow like myself, cooking for you, all these bloody roses lurking about, I’d hate for you to get the wrong idea.”

   He grinned and Harry rolled his eyes.  “Mind you don’t cut your finger off trying to impress me like that,” he retorted.  “I don’t tend to like blood in my…what are you cooking anyway?”

   Malfoy shrugged and turned back to his work as Harry sat down, watching him with interest.  “Just spaghetti bolognese,” he said, taking a sip of his gin.  “So, can I ask you a question?”

   “You just did,” Harry said playfully, helping himself to one of the chocolates on display in front of him.  Of course he knew this wasn’t a date, he wasn’t stupid.  This was actually a pretty FUBARed situation they’d got themselves in.  But still, Draco had a point.  A handsome guy _was_ cooking him dinner, close enough to Valentine’s Day for jazz, surrounded by red roses, a fancy box of chocolates at his fingertips.  Harry understood what was going on, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

   “Hah hah,” Draco replied, unwrapping a packet of mincemeat. 

   Harry took pity on him.  “Go on then,” sensing something personal was coming, and he was right. 

   Draco was side on to him at the counter, so they were able to see each other whilst talking.  Draco gave him a sidelong glance and bit his teeth together before proceeding.  “You came out of the closet a while ago yeah?  Kind of a big deal, we all thought you were going to marry the Weasley girl.”   Harry was a little taken a back that Draco had concerned himself with his love life at all, but he had to admit he was right, most people had thought that.

   “I just took some time and worked out this is who I am,” he replied.

   “Yeah,” Draco carried on.  “And that’s fair enough, I’m all for that.”

   “Why thank you,” Harry said and Draco rolled his eyes.

   “But,” he said as if Harry hadn’t interrupted.  “It was this big deal and then, well.”  He stopped stirring the meat for a minute, letting it sizzle with the onions and garlic.  “I mean – have you even had a boyfriend since?”

   Harry laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  Draco Malfoy really had been paying attention to him, and that made his skin tingle just a little. 

   “You don’t have to answer,” Draco mumbled, picking his spoon up again.

   Harry waved his hands and took a mouthful of his gin.  He figured they were probably off duty now, but it was still slipping down a little easy for his liking.  “No, no, you’re right,” he said.  “I was just surprised by your direct approach.  It’s actually quite refreshing.”

   Draco glanced at him again, and Harry swore he caught a look of relief. 

   “The truth is I’ve pretty much only ever dated Muggles, and there’s never really been anyone serious.”

   “Muggles?” Draco repeated.  Harry waited for the scathing comments, but Draco just thought on that as he started chopping a whole bowl of ripe looking tomatoes one by one.  “How come?”

   Harry shrugged.  He had to admit he was relieved, he’d half expected a racist tirade, and that would have rather ruined this new version of Malfoy that had been emerging over the past few years.  He considered that spoilt child he’d met at Madam Malkin’s all those years ago, the boy that had insulted his best friends in his first breath on the Hogwarts Express.  The haunted young man he’d become, forced on a near suicide mission to save him and his family from the darkest wizard of their time.  Then finally of the man he’d repaired himself into the past few years, all the effort he’d made to put his past behind him and rebuild his integrity, to make amends and do some good in this world. 

   Yes, Harry was very glad he hadn’t just destroyed all that. 

   “How many gay guys do you know?” he asked in response to Draco’s question.

   He picked up another tomato.  His fingers were slick with juice, and Harry swore his mouth almost watered.  He wasn’t thinking about licking it off, he wasn’t.  “Err,” said Draco, frowning.  “I think Blaise said one of his mates has a brother…” he said.

   “Exactly,” said Harry practically.  His gin was almost gone, and he got up to make himself useful and sort them both a refill.  “So there’s a simple question of limited availability in the wizarding world, I’ve barely met any other gays guys, let alone ones I’m interested in.  But also, I’m, well, me,” he finished lamely. 

   “The Boy Who Lived?” Draco supplied.  “The Chosen One, The Great Saviour Of All Magic Kind?”

   Harry huffed.  “Yeah, that,” agreed, twisting the cap off the gin and snagging Draco’s glass to put another measure in.  “I’ve been quite popular with romantic advances, you could say.”  The heat was rising in his cheeks again, but this time from embarrassment rather than anything else.  “It was hard to tell who was being genuine, aside from Ginny.  But unfortunately she wasn’t what I was looking for in the end.”

   He decanted the tonic on top of the gin and refreshed the ice and lime, sneaking a look at Draco as he scraped the last of the tomatoes into the pan and gave it all a good stir.  “So,” the other man began, wiping his hands on the tea-towel again and rummaging through the spice rack for the right herbs.  “By hooking up with Muggles, you got your anonymity back?” he guessed.

   Harry smiled and pushed his replenished tumbler back towards him.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Muggles have whole gay communities, pubs and bars and stuff, it makes it much easier to meet new people and I can just be…” he shrugged.  “You know, Harry.”

   Draco was nodding to himself, pulling out oregano and basil shakers and giving them a sniff.  “Yeah I get that, I do,” he said, giving Harry a hint of a smile before turning back to his work.

   Harry let him be for a while, stirring their meal and adding pasta to the boiling water.  “How about you?” he asked after a time.  “Is there a lady in your life that’s got you so domesticated?”

   “Yes,” Draco replied, arching his eyebrow and giving Harry a scathing look.  “My mother, and you best be respectful about her.”

   Harry felt a sudden flush of warmth in his chest.  “You know I am,” he said quietly.

   Draco paused, turning to look at him in all seriousness.  “Harry,” he began, but Harry cut him off with a wave of a hand.

   “I don’t know,” he said, feeling his throat clench ever so slightly.  “If I ever thanked you and her.  For saving my life.”

   “Are you mad?” Draco said, thinking to turn the heat on the hob down before grabbing a chair and sitting in front of Harry, the table corner between them.  He stared for a moment, apparently searching for the right words.  “You shouldn’t be thanking us,” he began.  “I should be apologising.  For all that… _shit_ I put you through!  I bullied you, I was disrespectful, I tried to trip you up at every turn.  I was prejudiced and ignorant and mean, and I saw you, this – this _golden_ boy, and I was consumed by jealousy and hate.”  He drew breath through his teeth.  Harry was stunned.  Where had this come from, how long had he wanted to get this off his chest?  “And all that was before Voldemort came back.  After that – the war – Harry I let Death Eaters into our _school._ I let myself be blinded by Umbridge, I hunted and punished other students, I forgot who I was in some quest for glory and power.

   “And then there he was, the Dark Lord, living in our home, they all were, there was torture and murder and Dumbledore…I almost, I let Snape…”  He gritted his teeth, and Harry didn’t need any reminding of what he had seen, invisible and bound, of Draco atop that tower, sobbing at the prospect of taking their headmaster’s life. 

   “So don’t you thank me for not giving you up, or my mum for lying that you were dead.   All we did was keep our mouths shut, you spent your childhood fighting against that monster whilst we were forced to fetch him _tea.”_

   Somewhere along the rant he’d become fixated on a knot of wood in the table and was scratching it fervently.  Harry was alarmed to see tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and he kicked himself for so suddenly turning the conversation down such a dark route when they’d been having a perfectly nice time of it.

   “Hey,” he said softly.  Draco didn’t respond, so he reached and covered his hand with his own, stopping the scratching before he made himself bleed.  “Hey stop that, I mean it.”

   Draco looked up at him in surprise, his eyes bright.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

   Harry let go of his hand, not wanting to scare him off, but held his gaze.  “I know you are,” he said.  “And you’ve got to hear me when I say I was in your debt, am in your debt, because you had the courage to lie, to protect me when I was vulnerable and literally thrown at your feet, even though it could have cost you both everything.  I’m alive, so many people are alive, because of you; both you and you and your mum.”

   Draco stared into his eyes for several moments, and Harry did likewise, taking in the sorrow behind the slate greyness.  “I’ve wanted to apologise so many times,” Draco said thickly.  “But words didn’t seem enough.  I never knew why you hadn’t ever hexed me, why you would be polite to me, after…”

   “After the battle,” Harry supplied.  “After school.”  Draco nodded.  “Because you aren’t the only one with horrid relations Malfoy.  You weren’t the first boy to be a prick at school.  I understand you were manipulated and in the past few years I know you’ve worked hard to make amends.  So please,” he urged, taking Draco’s hand again.  _“Please_ accept my gratitude.  And I will accept your apology.”

   Draco blinked his eyes, lowering his gaze and taking a couple of very slow breaths in and out.  “You would really forgive me?”

   “I forgave you a long time ago Draco,” Harry assured him, squeezing his hand before releasing it once more.  “And it’s okay to forgive yourself too.”

   “Don’t know about that,” he replied with just a twitch of a smile.  Harry watched him a moment as he just breathed, trying to find his respite, weighing his options.

   Then he took a shuddery breath and nodded, rubbing away the tears that had been threatening to spill with the heels of his hands.  “Okay,” Draco exhaled, then gave a nervous laugh, inhaling deeply and slapping his thighs.  “Merlin Potter what have you done, you got me crying as well as cooking for you.”

   He laughed again, breaking the tension and Harry followed suit.  “I do apologise,” he said as Draco stood to go back to their food.  “I just can’t help it, I’m bringing out your soft side with my super gay powers.”

   Draco huffed, gave his eyes one last rub, then picked up his wooden spoon again, turning up the flame once more.  “Don’t tell anyone I’m a big wuss underneath, you’ll ruin my reputation and I might be forced to punish you.”

   Harry couldn’t help the fleeting thought that he wouldn’t actually mind being punished by Draco Malfoy, but batted it down immediately.  The moment they had just shared was important, and he shouldn’t tarnish it with crude thoughts.  It was a bit tricky though, as his heart was beating a little louder in his ears.  He’d never expected such an outpouring from his old school rival, such honesty.  He hoped he was capable of remorse, wished him to be a better person, but he wasn’t convinced.  Until now.  Now he was looking at him with admiration that made his insides clench inappropriately. 

   Humility was pretty damn attractive. 

   Maybe he’d always been drawn to Draco in this way, he thought.  Perhaps that’s where the childish rivalry had stemmed from, the viciousness on the Quidditch pitch.  Maybe Harry had been harbouring something a little deeper all this time?

   Well, if that was the case, it certainly wasn’t the same for Draco.  He always had a new girl on his arm at whatever social gathering beckoned him, stunning witches dripping with wealth batting their eyelashes and laughing at his jokes.  No, if he did have feelings for the blond Slytherin he was about to dine with, they would have to stop at friendship.  Harry thought he was okay with that though, it was better than nothing.

   “Speaking of your reputation,” Harry said, keeping his tone light.  “Who’s the latest girl you’ve got on your arm?  I’m assuming there is one.”

   Draco rolled his eyes and huffed.  Dinner was smelling good and he fished out a loop of spaghetti and ran it under the tap.  “I might be getting engaged, but you didn’t hear that from me.”  He let the cool water drip off the pasta before tipping his head back and letting the long tendril slide into his mouth.

   Harry might have to slow down on the gin if he was going to cope with seeing things like that.

   “Uh,” he said, clearing his throat as Draco chewed and swallowed.  “To who?  I didn’t realise you even had a girlfriend right now.”

   Draco went back to the spaghetti, stirring absent-mindedly.   “I don’t,” he said simply.  “But she’s a nice girl from a good family, and it would go a long way to repairing the Malfoy name to be tied to someone like the Greengrasses.”

   Harry couldn’t help it.  His mouth had dropped open.  “You mean, like, an _arranged_ marriage?” he asked in disbelief.  Sometimes the magical community could be so old fashioned, but this was shocking even to him.

   Draco tried to laugh it off though.  “She’s really nice,” he said protectively.  “Only a couple of years younger than us, clever, funny, and for some unknown reason she likes me.  If I can help my family, my mother, our legacy, then I will.”

   “And love?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

   Draco obviously decided the pasta was now done after the extra couple of minutes he’d given it, so took the whole pot and dumped it in the waiting colander over the sink.  “Love is for fairytales,” Draco said scornfully, shaking his head at Harry.  “Sex is for grownups, and I’m sure that won’t be a problem, she’s lovely and I’m me.”  He gestured down his body with his free hand, and Harry declined to comment, swallowing more gin instead.

   “I don’t know,” he replied instead.  “I guess, I just hoped I’d find something more, I see other people have it – love I mean.  Life’s too short not to make the most of it.”

   Draco smiled at him, it was warm and amused, before hefting up the spaghetti and spilling the slippery ribbons into the meat sauce.  “That is because you are a carefree bohemian, my friend,” he said with a theatrical air.  “And shall shag your way across the county, before no doubt meeting a dashing Muggle, who you will wow one day with your magical world and tales of thrilling heroics, whereas I shall do the right thing and have lots and lots of little blond babies, and teach every one of them to stay away from evil wizards, but most importantly, how best to wind up as many Gryffindors as possible whilst at school.”

   He grinned purposefully at Harry, then began dishing up their food on to plates.  He seemed to believe what he was saying, but Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him.  Is that why he’d not had a serious girlfriend as far as Harry had been aware, because he knew he would one day have to throw his lot in with whoever was the best option?  They were only in their mid-twenties, surely he didn’t have to give in just yet?

   Harry blinked the thoughts away.  He couldn’t have Draco anyway, so what did it matter to him who he ended up with?  It mattered, he realised, because he wanted him to be happy, after all the crap he’d been through.  But he wasn’t his keeper, so he breathed out and let a smile pick up his face as Draco place the plates in front of them.

   “Wow, thanks,” he said sincerely.  “It looks great.”

   Draco sat down and held his glass up for another toast.  _“Roses are red,”_ he said.  _“Violets are blue, here’s to a bizarre night, between us two.”_

   “That’s getting really tiresome you know,” Harry groaned, before giving in and chiming their glasses together.  “To a bizarre night.”

 

***

 

   “I’m sorry,” said Draco, clearing his throat.  “But say that again?”

   Harry felt maybe he’d made a bit of a mistake. 

   Dinner had been lovely, there was no other word for it.  Harry had been sat with a man he didn’t have to lie to for once; about magic, or who he was, and the honesty was refreshing.  And after their somewhat emotional discussion earlier it seemed they both felt more comfortable letting their barriers down, so after all this time Harry was finally getting to know the real Draco Malfoy.  He was quite funny he was pleased to discover. 

   But full of a good meal, a couple of gins, and legs tired from trekking through the Scottish Highlands meant Harry couldn’t help but feel his eyelids dropping, despite the good company.  Draco called him on it and he’d suggested he might take a nap, that they both could.  After all, it would probably be another few hours before the Ministry got to them, and Draco had agreed.

  Unfortunately there was only one bed, and even if they were able to repair the sofa that was part of the crime scene, it wasn’t long enough for either of their legs.  They could have conjured extra bedding for the floor, but in this poky cottage there wasn’t all that much room to lay it.

   So Harry had suggested maybe they share the bed.

   “You know,” he quickly backtracked.  “We’d be clothed obviously so it wouldn’t be, uh, weird, actually you know what?”  He waved his hands at Draco.  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make a bed in the hall, it’s fine.”

  “Wait, wait,” said Draco rubbing the side of his head with one hand, the other on his hip.  “I’m sorry, that was dickish of me, it’s just taking a nap, like you said we’d be in our clothes and it’s just to get our energy back.  I’m making it weird, I’m sorry.”

   “Draco,” said Harry.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

   He stretched his arms out and made his shoulders crack.  “Nah,” he said.  “I’m fine.  As long as you don’t ravage me in my sleep.”

   Harry felt heat rise on the back on the back of his neck.  “Well, now that you mention it…”

   Draco laughed and he hoped he’d covered himself okay.  “We’re professionals, it makes sense to get some shut eye whilst we can.  You know when your lot and my lot get through those curses they’re probably going to spend hours asking questions.”

   “Yeah,” Harry agreed keenly.  “I just thought it’d be good to be refreshed.”  _In the same bed,_ one half of his brain purred.  _Shh!_ hissed the other half. 

   “Right,” Draco said, collecting the dishes and stacking them by the sink.  “I’ll wash up, you find some clean bedding.”

   Between the two men and their wands it didn’t take long to clean the kitchen and make up the bed, but then they were both in the bedroom, looking at the bed, and suddenly Harry felt awkward.  Maybe he _should_ be sleeping in the hall.  Oh Merlin it was just for a couple of hours, he needed to grow up.

   “I’m just going to go brush my teeth,” he said, jerking his thumb out to the corridor and the bathroom. 

   “You have a toothbrush?” Draco said impressed. 

   Harry rubbed the back of his neck.  “No,” he admitted.  “I’ve just got good at a very mild _Scourgify_ with other people’s toothpaste.

   Draco’s mouth quirked.  “You are such a slut Potter,” he said with a lacing of humour. 

   “Oh shut up,” said Harry, turning to leave.

   “Hey,” said Draco, catching him back.  “Show me?”

   The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched.  “Will do.”

   He spent a bit too long in the bathroom he guessed, brushing his teeth, fixing his hair, looking in the mirror and sucking his stomach in.  _Get a grip!_ he yelled at himself.  It was okay to want to look good for himself but _nothing_ was happening between him and Draco.  This was _Draco Malfoy._   Even if they were sort of friends now he was still the same guy who had done his best to make his school years hell.  It would be a really bad idea and anyway he was straight.

   With that Harry snapped the lock and re-emerged, heading back to the bedroom.  True to his word, he showed Draco his variation on the scouring charm, and let him leave to take his turn in the bathroom.

   “You are a professional Potter,” he hissed under his breath as he stalked back out into main cottage.  “Hold it the fuck together.”

   He decided it would be a good idea to throw up some alarm charms, just to wake them whenever their colleagues got within a mile or so of the place.  He’d really rather not have Ron prodding him awake while drooling unconscious next to Draco Malfoy.  So he prowled around the edge of the house for a while, erecting magic, careful not to touch any of the door or window handles. 

   Satisfied, he headed back to the bedroom and eyed the king size wearily.  Was this really a good idea?

   “If anyone asks,” Draco announced as he walked back in the room, pointing a finger at Harry with a lopsided grin.  “We slept on the kitchen floor.  And we _liked_ it.”

   “Yes,” Harry replied.  “Because I’m going to tell Ron and Hermione all about how you cooked me dinner and then we shared a bed.  They’d ship me off to St Mungo’s to get my head checked.”

   “Blaise and Pansy would do the same to me,” Draco agreed with a laugh, casually undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt and kicking off his boots.  “You just better not snore.”

   “I’ve had no complaints so far,” Harry quipped, much more confident than he felt.

   Draco grunted and rolled his eyes.  “Gross,” was all he said as he made his way round the bed.  Thanks to his training Harry had naturally taken the side nearest the door, placing his wand on the bedside cabinet, easy to reach in case of any trouble.  He pulled his glasses off and set about unlacing his own Gore-Tex shoes, grinding his teeth against any lingering lusty feelings.

   Draco sighed loudly and flipped the duvet over, throwing himself on the sheet and his arms behind his head. 

   _Oh,_ thought Harry.  _We’re getting under the covers?_   What did he expect?  This was no big deal.  This was fine. 

   “Don’t hog the sheets,” Harry warned as he tried to force his heart to slow down and lowered himself onto the bed, throwing the duvet over his body.

   He was rewarded with a smirk.  “I shall promise no such thing Potter,” Draco declared saucily. 

   Harry groaned inwardly.  Malfoy obviously had no idea the affect he was having on him.  Damn him.

   He flicked his wand to turn out the lights, leaving them with the moonlight spilling in from around the curtains and the door that they’d left a jar to keep an ear on the rest of the cottage.  “Night Malfoy,” said Harry.

   “Night Scarhead,” Draco replied sleepily. 

 

***

 

   From how groggy he felt when he woke up, Harry guessed he had fallen into a deep sleep.  He peeked at the clock on the bedside cabinet and realised it had only been for a couple of hours, but that was fine, that’s all he had wanted.

   Then, he realised what must have roused him from his slumber.   There was an arm draped over his torso.

   For a second he thought his heart might have stopped, but as he shifted and felt the body curled loosely around him, he realised Draco must have spooned him at some point whilst unconscious.  Harry couldn’t help it.  He laughed.  There he was, worried about what he might do unwittingly, and yet it was Draco who had gone and snuggled up to him.

   He was going to be furiously humiliated, and Harry couldn’t help but enjoy that.  He was going to tease him about this probably until the end of time.  He shifted his weight to turn and look at Draco, and as he hoped his movement began to wake the other man.  Harry knew he was probably grinning like a maniac, but he wanted to watch the horror on Malfoy’s face when he realised he tangled himself up with Harry Potter.

   Slowly the blond opened his eyes and blinked, disorientated, taking in his arm slung over Harry’s waist, his legs entwined with Harry’s, their faces inches apart.

   Harry waited.  But as Malfoy focused and stopped blinking, realisation dawning, he didn’t freak out and push Harry away like he’d expected.  His eyes widened as shock shaped his expression, but he didn’t move.  He seemed to be thinking, rapidly, and Harry could feel the mirth dropping from his face.  What was going on?

   Draco’s breathing was becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling under his rumpled white shirt, and his eyes were locked with Harry’s.  Then they dipped to his lips and back up again as the hand resting on Harry’s hip curled slightly, gripping the soft fabric of Harry’s t-shirt.  He swallowed and licked his lips, and Harry felt like he’d been hit by a lorry.

   Oh.

   _Fuck._

   Had he accidently got Draco Malfoy into bed?   The seconds stretched out as Harry felt his own expression turning to shock.  Did Draco _want_ him?  There was only one way to find out.

   Carefully, he raised his right hand and brushed a lock of soft blond hair back from his face.  Draco’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch, but then opened again to meet with Harry’s as he rested his fingertips lightly on his cheek.

   Harry’s heart was racing, blood was pumping hot through his veins and alerting all his senses fully after being dulled by sleep.  They weren’t the only thing waking up though, Harry could feel his cock press against his jeans as he realised he had maybe a moment or two more to make a decision.

   He had Draco Malfoy in his arms; old nemesis, new friend, work colleague, supposedly straight, and yet he looked like he was waiting.  Like he was mildly terrified, but also…hungry. 

   Harry made his decision.

   He kept Draco’s gaze as he leant forward, he could see he was trembling ever so slightly, before he closed his eyes and brushed their lips together.

   A second passed, then another, and just when Harry was about to draw away, Draco Malfoy pushed back, kissing him gently and slipping his tongue out to taste his lips.

   Harry didn’t need any more encouragement than that.  He rolled into him, thrusting his hand into his silvery hair as he kissed him eagerly as their tongues and lips worked desperately against each other, bodies coming closer together.  He pushed his other hand between Draco’s chest and the bed, wrapping around him and pulling him into Harry.  He felt as Draco let his own hand roam from where it had been resting on Harry’s hip, sliding over his t-shirt, running down his back and making Harry’s skin light up with every touch.

   As unexpectedly as it had started though, Draco suddenly jerked back, staring at Harry with real fear on his face.  “What am I doing?” he whispered.  “What the fuck am I doing?”

   Harry swallowed, trying not to be hurt.  “Nothing if you don’t want to,” he assured him.  He meant it, if Draco wanted to stop he would respect that, they’d never mention it again.

   He would absolutely have to take himself to the bathroom for a serious wank if that was the case though, as he was rock hard after just a minute of snogging. 

   Draco was looking at him intently, breathing deeply as he bit his bottom lip.  Slowly he moved back in, tentatively sweeping his mouth over Harry’s before finding his previous enthusiasm.  Harry’s heart soared as he let himself be kissed and caressed by this beautiful man, not quite believing this was where the night had taken them after their evening together.

   He wasn’t sure what was really happening, but as long as Draco was okay with it Harry would do whatever he wanted him to.  Maybe he was just experimenting, or maybe this was the reason Draco had never really had a proper girlfriend.  Harry knew whatever the case it might just be for tonight, he might have to pretend that this, along with their dinner and their heartfelt confessions, had never taken place.  But that would come later.  For now, he was going to make the most of every single moment.

   He rolled Draco onto his back, straddling him without breaking their kiss, pulling his hands from where they’d been entangled in his hair and drifting them down his neck.  Draco moaned into his mouth and Harry felt dizzy with desire.  He trailed his fingers down his chest, finding his shirt buttons as Draco gripped his hips, their groins rocking slowly together.  One by one, Harry slipped the buttons free, exposing Draco’s lean chest, firm with sculpted muscles but not too bulky, just the way Harry preferred.

   He broke the kiss, leaving Draco gasping and his hands running up Harry’s back as Harry traced his mouth down his neck and along his clavicle, working the last of the buttons free.  Harry had been lucky with his first few sexual endeavours, finding himself with men keen to show him what was good, what was possible, without expecting much in return from someone inexperienced like him.  Harry wanted to give that to Draco now; he may have been with women but this had to be his first time with a man, and Harry didn’t care if he did all the work, he wanted it to be good for him, wanted it to be special.  Even if they only had this night together, Harry wanted it to be worth it.

   He slid his hands down Draco’s chest, moving to slip the rest of the shirt off over his shoulders, when he froze.  His fingertips had graced over a ridge, slashed diagonally across Draco’s chest, and, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him, Harry pulled back suddenly, flicking the shirt aside and staring in horror and the long, slender scar that ran diagonally practically from Draco’s shoulder to his hip bone.

   The desire drained from Harry’s body in a second.  _“Shhhit,”_ he said emphatically.  He had given Draco that scar, in their sixth year of school.  It had been an accident, but, Merlin he had no idea it had maimed him like that.

   “Hey,” said Draco, sitting up when he realised what was wrong.  “Hey, it’s okay, Harry-”

   But Harry was shaking his head, staring at the faint pink welt.  “Draco _I_ did that to you,” he whispered, reaching tentatively forward, brushing it with his fingers.  “I had no idea.”

   Draco scooped his hand up with his own, squeezing it tightly to get his attention.  “Harry it’s okay,” he said, catching his eyes and holding unwavering contact.  “It’s a part of who I am.”

   Harry licked his lips.  “I didn’t know what that spell did, I would have never-”

   It was Draco’s turn to interrupt him this time.  “Hey,” he said firmly.  “Do you know what I was thinking of doing in that bathroom, before you showed up?”  He raised his eyebrows and placed Harry’s hand back down on his chest, resting on the scar as he flattened his palm on top.  “Much worse than this.”

   Harry frowned, absorbing this, feeling his eyes flicking over Draco’s face.  “You were going to hurt yourself?” he said softly.

   “Worse,” said Draco, unapologetically.  “You saved me Harry, in a strange way.  Believe me you did.  And now this,” he pressed down with his hand, pushing the faint ridge into Harry’s skin, before sitting up and shrugging the shirt off entirely, throwing it on the floor.  “And this,” he held up the Dark Mark tattoo on his left wrist.  “Are a part of who I am, a reminder of everything I went through.”

   Harry swallowed, taking in Draco below him, baring his scars.  Gently, he reached out and touched the mark, running his fingers over the slightly textured skin.  Draco watched him as he thought, as he moved his hand back and traced the whole length of the scar on his chest.  “You forgive me?”

   Draco put his hands behind his back, sitting up fully and lightly touching his lips back to Harry’s.  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he murmured into his mouth.

   Harry slowly let himself be kissed, the icy knot of guilt easing in his gut.  He was stunned.  Draco was carrying that around with him every single day, every time he looked in the mirror; Harry had branded him.  Did he really see it as a positive?  Had Harry really stopped him from self harming, or even taking his own life?

   Draco slipped his hand into Harry’s hair, stoking it, coaxing Harry away from terrible thoughts and back into bed.  “Don’t stop,” Draco whispered.  “Please don’t stop Harry.  I’m here, now.  Make love to me.”

   Those four words sent desire cascading down Harry’s body, chasing away old ghosts like a patronus dispersing dementors.  Gradually he found his way back, running his hands over Draco’s naked torso, exploring his body as his tongue explored his mouth and lips.

   Harry had forgiven Draco for his indiscretions at school.  Maybe Draco really did forgive him too.

   He went to push Draco back down on the bed, losing himself in the embrace, but Draco had other ideas.  He surprised him by slipping his hands under the hem of his t-shirt, cool fingers making him jump slightly as he touched his skin.  He tugged at the top, pulling it up Harry’s chest, breaking the kiss to yank it over his head and throw it on the floor beside his shirt. 

   Despite his noble declarations, Harry (and more notably his prick) couldn’t deny his excitement at the prospect of Draco getting actively involved.  It sparked the back fire in him that seeing the scar had diminished.  Draco wanted him to make love to him?  That’s exactly what he was going to do.

   Harry’s jaw and mouth were actually starting to ache from the ferocity of their kissing, but he wasn’t about to relent.  He felt like a parched man discovering an oasis.  Gradually, Draco leant them back again, his hands exploring Harry’s body with growing confidence, making their way back up to his hair, running his fingers through before gripping firmly. 

   Returning to his original mission to make this the best it could be for Draco, Harry decided to step things up.  He pushed his hand between their bodies, grabbing Draco’s crotch to massage his evident erection through the material of his trousers.  Draco jerked and shuddered, crying out through their kiss and pulling at Harry’s hair.  Yeah, he liked that. 

   He worked him a little longer, loving the solid feel of him under his touch, but soon Harry wanted more.  He needed more.  He angled their bodies, bringing his other hand in to help as he began to unbutton and unzip.  Draco was making the most delicious, throaty sounds as he did this, and gradually he slipped Draco’s trousers over his hips.

   Draco took it upon himself to get involved, abruptly grabbing hold of the trousers and yanking them down his legs, shaking his legs free so now only his boxers remained.  He chucked them to the side of the bed, all the while begging at Harry with his kisses, his mouth pleading for more of his touch.

   The trousers discarded, Harry resumed his exploration of Draco’s crotch, stroking through silky underwear, green of course, which made him smile as he kneaded his rigid erection.  He was a good size; not too big, not to be dismissed, and Harry found his mouth watering.  Little by little, he pulled back from Draco’s lips, swollen and pink from where he’d pulverised them.  He lingered with kisses down his throat, along his chest and abs, tongue giving little touches on the rougher scar tissue, following the soft golden trail of hair from his belly button down to his boxers. 

   Draco seemed to sense what was coming, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands as he fluttered them from the mattress to his chest, down to slip into Harry’s tangle of black hair, whispering sweet nothings into the blackness.

   “Yes,” he uttered, barely audible.  “Oh yes Potter yes.”

   Harry nuzzled his face into the silk, running his nose up and down Draco’s length, causing him to cry out, fingers jerking in Harry’s hair.  Carefully, he slipped his own fingers under the elastic of the boxers, feeling the heat of Draco’s skin.  He was still trembling, ever so slightly.  He pulled them down, over his cock that bobbed as Draco shifted his hips eagerly, helping Harry strip him.

   Now he was naked, completely, and Harry felt a thrill of elation.  This man was all his, and he would do anything he wanted him to.

   He traced his mouth back up his thigh, feeling the muscles contract as Draco writhed, pleasure noises catching in his throat, impeding anything intelligible.  He wanted to savour the moment, but he didn’t want Draco to think he was being teased.  So as he reached his hips, Harry lifted his head, and glided his mouth, tongue and lips over Draco’s waiting cock.

   “Fuck, Merlin!” Draco hissed, rising his pelvis as Harry lowered his head, and Draco rubbed his hand through Harry’s hair, encouraging him.  Harry gripped hard either side of Draco’s naked arse, giving himself purchase as he dipped up and down, swirling his tongue, loving every second.

   Giving head was more important than sex in instances like this, he thought.  It was about trust, true intimacy, and he rose his gaze to watch his man as he worshiped him.  Draco was already looking down at him, he realised with a thrill, and he held his gaze as Draco quickly became undone, until he dropped his head back into the pillow, his fingers massaging through Harry’s hair. 

   He didn’t want this over too quickly though, so he took one of his hands and gripped the stem of his shaft in a ring with his fingers, restricting the blood flow whilst he continued to suck like he was trying to swallow Draco dick all the way down his throat.

   Draco let out some sort of unintelligible noise that let Harry know he was doing well, and he hummed against the tight, hot skin he was attempting to devour.  “Potter, yes, Harry _fuck!”_

   Harry continued, even though his jaw was starting to ache a little from the repetitive motion after all the kissing.  He slowed the pace down, before speeding up, preparing Draco for the impending climax. 

   _“I’m going to come,”_ he uttered, obviously on the brink, and Harry obeyed, letting go of his tight hold and allowing the blood to rush back all along the length.  _“Argh!”_ Draco wailed, digging his hands into the bed sheets, and Harry sped up one last time. 

   He jerked suddenly, but Harry was prepared, digging his fingers into his soft flesh, taking everything he gave him.  He swallowed him down, salty and a little spicy, lapping him up as he rose up from his cock, licking up the stem, planting a swift kiss on the tip.  Draco was gasping, shuddering as Harry slowly laced kisses up his abdomen, making his way back to his mouth.

   “You taste good,” he said, voice husky and he smiled down at his lover, sweeping a lock of hair from his face again, wanting to see his grey eyes unhindered.  Draco stared back up at him as he tried to steady his breathing, taking long, slow breaths as his hands traced down Harry’s cheeks and jawline.

   “You should get the Order of fucking Merlin for that,” Draco breathed, a grin spreading over his face.  Harry snuck in for a kiss, catching up his mouth and bending it to his will, letting Draco taste his own, intimate, flavour. 

   “I don’t blow just anyone, you know,” he murmured between lips and breaths.  “Give me a medal and everyone would want one.”

   “They can’t have one, though,” Draco said.

   “You can though,” Harry said.  Lord he was losing himself, how was he ever going to pull back once the cold light of day hit?

   Draco separated himself, leaning back on his elbows and considering Harry, before dragging his thumb along Harry’s jaw and lips, into his mouth.  “I want you to fuck me,” he whispered.

   Harry could have sworn he was in control of this little _triste_ of theirs, but with those few words he found himself unravelling.  “I am fucking you,” he rasped.

   Draco held his gaze, that tight fear creeping back onto his face.  “Fuck me _properly,”_ he said. 

   He dropped his hand to Harry’s inner thighs, where he was still wearing his jeans, and took a firm hold of his throbbing prick, pulling him closer.  “I want you inside me,” he said in hushed tones.  He was begging.

   Harry forced himself to sober up and concentrate, taking the back of Draco’s neck in hand.  That was more than fooling around.  That was taking his virginity as far as he was concerned.  “Are you sure?” he asked, running his gaze over Draco’s face with intensity.  “That might be too much, I mean, I am quite…” he bit his lip, feeling suddenly coy.  “Big.  We could try other stuff.”

   A beautiful look graced over Draco’s face, a flurry of embarrassment and keenness and something adorable but indefinable.  He nuzzled his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, before sneaking a look, then averting his eyes again.  “At home,” he began, unsure.  “I have, I mean like…I use… _toys.”_

   Harry snapped back and looked down at him.  “You kinky bastard,” he breathed, utterly delighted, before dropping back down to smother him in kisses, not relenting until both of them gasped for air.  Draco Malfoy liked it up the arse.  Harry felt like Christmas had come early. 

   “Hang on a sec,” he said, remembering one last practical action with his brain before his other head took over all thought.  He wasn’t normally able to do this with his Muggle partners, unless they were pretty drunk and he could catch them when they weren’t looking.  But it made such a huge difference he was keen to take advantage of the situation. 

   He grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet and cast a silent spell over Draco, who jumped a little, no doubt at the tingling sensation he was currently experiencing in his lower regions.  “Cleaning spell,” Harry said with a grin, casting it on himself too just in case.  “Makes everything go a bit smoother.”

   Draco nodded and smiled back, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat that Harry’s treatment of him so far had managed to illicit. 

   Harry barely paused as he rolled to his side of the bed, throwing open his bag and thanking whoever was out there listening for his own foresight to stash a little bottle of lubricant and pack of condoms in the back pocket.  He was slick with sweat but ignored the slight chill that caught him as he scrambled out of the rest of his clothes, ripped the condom open, unrolling it on his waiting cock, then tipped a generous splash of lube over his fingers to massage over it. 

   He spun back around, and stilled at the sight that greeted him.

   Draco had moved onto his stomach, and had nestled his head into the crook of his arm.  His legs were slightly apart, bent and curled towards himself, looking more nubile and wanting than any angel ever captured in oil on canvas.  His eyes were trained on Harry, his expression was submissive, ardent, and as naked as the backside he had waiting for Harry. 

   Harry flipped the cap back on the lube and dropped it by his pillow.  Slowly, he crawled over to where Draco was splayed, pleased with the way his eyes lingered on his swaying cock.  _It’s all for you,_ he thought. 

   He reached him and dropped his head, planting kisses along his spine as he slipped his fingers between Draco’s cheeks, letting the gel spread from his fingers into his more sensitive areas.  Draco gasped, and Harry reached up to lace his other hand over Draco’s one gripping insatiably at the bed sheets, intertwining their fingers as he moved his body around.

   Slowly, he pushed the first finger against Draco's entrance, making him moan.  “Is that okay?” Harry asked, nuzzling into Draco’s soft blond hair, his own breath hitching along with the man’s beneath him. 

   Draco nodded.  “Yes, Harry,” he rasped.  _“Fucking hell-”_   His face was screwed up in concentration, and despite claiming to be well versed in sodomy, Harry decided to go as slowly as possible, getting him used to the sensations he was giving him. 

   He worked gently, just up to his knuckle to start with, murmuring to Draco in assurance that he was right there with him and that he had everything under control.  Draco whined and writhed under him as he eased his finger in further, and Harry shifted so they could kiss between gasping breaths.  “Still good?” he checked, marvelling again at the angel of a man he was currently undoing with his hands and his lips. 

   “Incredible,” Draco breathed, trying to open his eyes, but he was so ladened down with lust and desire he could only last a second or two before clamping them shut again. 

   Harry heart was racing, his cock throbbing with the promise of what was to come.  “You feel so good,” he said, his voice husky.  “So hot and tight Draco, I can’t wait until I’m burred up to my hips in you, I want everything.”

   Draco’s breaths were almost sobs, and Harry decided to stretch him out more before he picked up the pace and found his prostate.  “Can I add another?” he asked, slowing his pulsing hand down.

   Draco nodded.  “Please,” he whispered, clutching Harry’s hand in a vice like grip.  “Please Harry, it feels so good.”

   Harry took his time kissing him again, relaxing him before pushing in a second slippery finger inside, and Draco rutted hungrily against him, mewling in a most delicious manner.  “You like that, don’t you?” Harry chuckled, picking up the pace quicker this time.

   Draco seemed incapable of much a response, only gasping _“Don’t stop – don’t stop”_ into the crook of Harry’s neck.

   “I’ve got you,” Harry soothed.  “It’s okay, you’re doing so good, you look amazing, _fuck.”_    Draco was a damp, shuddering mess beneath him, all his muscles contracting and flexing under Harry’s torturous ecstasy.  He was tempted to angle his fingers to find Draco’s sweet spot, that bundle of nerves that would have him howling and unravelling in a matter of moments.  But Harry’s prick was aching with desperate need, and he wanted as good a fuck as he was giving, so he held off.  Instead he started scissoring his two fingers as he pushed in.  “I’m going to have to add a third,” he said, knowing from experience that that’s what his partners needed to take him comfortably.  “Are you ready?”

   Draco just nodded frantically, so he didn’t waste any time as he added the last digit, pumping in a steady strong rhythm that had Draco alternating between growls, moans and the most scintillating little squeaks that always made Harry want to kiss him again and swallow them down. 

   “I want to fuck you now,” Harry gasped, feeling dizzy from just watching Draco unravelling at his touch.  “Please Draco, please.”

   “Harry I want-” he choked, clenching around his fingers with such strength Harry hissed, feeling his dick weeping pre-cum into the condom, desperate for attention after being neglected almost the whole night. 

   “What do you want?” he asked, slowing his hand down, preparing to slip it out.  He wasn’t always one for much chat during sex, but Draco made him want to hear his own voice, to hear Draco’s voice, to prove this was really happening to his over-stimulated brain. 

   “I want you,” Draco cried, undulating his hips against Harry’s now leisurely pace.  “Inside me.  _Now.”_

   How could Harry argue with that?

   He eased his fingers free and wiped them on the sheets on the side of the bed so he wouldn’t smear Draco with too much unnecessary lube.  His chest brushed up against Draco’s back, his mouth never leaving his skin, lips and tongue working over shoulder blades and neck as he carefully guided his cock towards Draco’s entrance.

   Their eyes met.  “Ready?” Harry breathed.  Draco nodded, so throwing all caution to the wind, he pushed forwards, breaking inside and feeling Draco envelope him.

   _“Fuck,”_ Draco hissed, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he clenched Harry’s hand with determination.  Harry let him recover, before slowly pushing a little further, then back, then a little further. 

   “Is that okay?” he asked quietly.  He was amazed he managed to get the words out.  Draco felt firm and warm and everything incredible.  He tightened and relaxed around Harry’s cock as he began to pick up the pace, one hand wrapped in and around Draco’s, the other balling the sheets for dear life as he nuzzled his face into Draco’s back.

   “Don’t stop,” Draco managed in a strangled choke.  “Don’t…don’t stop.”

   There was absolutely zero chance Harry was going to stop now.  He moved slowly and methodically for a few thrusts, enjoying each and every sensation.  But then he bent down, wrapping his knees around Draco’s hips, and began to ride him like a prize winning pony.

    Draco shouted out, gnashing his teeth as the profanities flew, and Harry revelled in the fact there wasn’t a single human being around to hear them for literally hundreds of miles.  He could feel himself peeking, cresting the wave of his own ecstasy.  “Come for me Draco,” he breathed.

   _“Harry,”_ Draco moaned, coming undone.  “Harry I’m going to, I’m…”

   He convulsed, screwing up his face and threatening to break Harry’s fingers, which Harry might have minded if his whole world wasn’t exploding with fireworks at the same moment.  He snatched up his free hand to seize Draco’s hip, burying himself as deep as he could go inside him as he came spectacularly. 

   He hovered on that moment of euphoria briefly, before collapsing and hugging a panting, quivering Draco into him.  It was a good minute or so before he could form a coherent thought, and even then it was so drowned out by sated lust he couldn’t trust himself to string a sentence together.  Instead he slowly retracted himself from Draco, making him sigh and squirm, peeled off the condom then dropped himself back beside his lover, edging his face into the nape of his neck, trailing kisses along his skin.

   “That was perfect,” he said, dazed.

   Draco shifted his weight so he could look at Harry properly.  His gaze was weighted, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

   But then Draco ran his fingers along the side of his face, touching damp hair and sliding back to cup the underside of his head.  “Perfect,” he agreed. 

 

***

 

   Harry knew he had dozed off again in Draco’s arms, so when he jerked awake to find himself alone panic was the first thing to shoot through him.  In the split second it took him to realise and worry what had happened, if he was okay, he realised for the second time that night there was a reason he had come so abruptly back into consciousness.

   His alarms were going off.

   In one swift moment he scooped up his jeans, dragging them over his legs, thrusting his glasses back on his face and snatching up his wand, all in the space of a heartbeat or two.  _“Silencio,”_ hehissed, and the bells and whistles ceased immediately. 

   The quiet that followed as Harry stepped bare-chested out into the hall told him two things.  First, that Draco must have been in the shower as the water was running, and second: they were not alone.

   There was a crash and a slew of angry words from behind the closed living room door opposite him.  He might have hoped it was his fellow aurors, but even through the door Harry could tell that the two heated voices were not speaking in English.

   They were speaking in French.

   He flattened himself against the wall, wand raised as his mind raced.  The Pontiacs, it had to be.  Why had they come back?  Was Draco right, had they been monitoring them?

   _“Trouver cette femme!”_ the female voice barked, Marie Pontiac Harry guessed, getting closer to the door.  _“Je veux qu'elle meure.”_

   The door opened to reveal just a glimpse of her husband Ourson, but Harry’s spell was already flying through the air.  _“Impedimenta!”_

   The fugitive was fast though, they both were, and Ourson’s shield charm had Harry’s hex bouncing off the walls while Marie assaulted him with a nasty shower of sparks in a combination of jinxes.  He ducked and rolled as the couple retreated back into the lounge, but Harry wasn’t letting them get away that easily.  He crashed through the door to find them waiting for him, either side of the room, and he spun on his feet, wand above his head as he battled back the barrage of spells.

   “My love!” Marie cried to Ourson in a thick French accent as they apparently enjoyed themselves.  “It is the famous ‘Arry Potter!  We are _most_ ‘onoured.”  For wanted fugitives, the Pontiacs had scrubbed up quite nicely in dress robes that looked like they had just come from a ball.  Maybe they had?  Harry had no idea where they’d been hiding these past few days.  He still couldn’t figure why they would risk coming back to the house when the Ministry was after them?

   “Oh put a sock in it,” Harry growled between curses, sweat pouring down his neck from exertion and concentration.  His feet were bare and he could feel them getting torn up from the debris strewn over Mrs Hathaway’s carpet.  The pain wasn’t helping him focus as the bombardment  continued, and despite Harry’s expert reflexes and wide range of spells, it wasn’t long before a stunning charm clipped his shoulder, and he went flying into the wall, rattling loose several china plates that came crashing down alongside him as he hit the floor. 

   Before he could scramble back to his feet, Ourson Pontiac was also blasted into the air, and Harry whipped his head round to see Draco charge into the room, hair wet and also only clad in his trousers.  Marie turned her attention to him with a shriek as they began to duel in earnest, giving Harry the chance to haul himself up.

   She fended them both off for the first few volleys, but with her husband still on the floor defenceless it was only a matter of time before Harry was able to sneak an _Incarcerous_ spell around her, snaking ropes around his limbs.

   _“Vas te faire encule!”_ Marie roared, strands of brown hair coming free of her elegant bun as she lunged at Harry and Draco, slashing viciously with spell after spell.   The cottage seemed to rock under their feet but the two men stood their ground, shoulder to shoulder as they beat the lunatic before them down.  Harry gritted his teeth, he just needed a shot, just one shot…

   Draco feinted to his left, drawing Marie to him, so Harry dove to the right, arching his wand and blasting the witch into unconsciousness, sprawled on the ground.

   Just like that the room stilled.  With the couple both out for the count and on the ground, Draco and Harry drew themselves up and back, catching their breaths, staring at the criminals they’d managed to apprehend.

   Harry was the first to move, darting over to Marie to check her pulse before binding her hands, gagging her and confiscating her wand.  He did the same to Ourson, and only then did he realise Draco was watching him mutely.

   Harry looked down at their captives, then back up to him.  This really had been a bizarre night.

   “Are you alright?” he asked.

   His hair was still dripping, water running in little rivets down his chest from where he’d presumably jumped straight out of the shower, his charcoal trousers were dark with moisture as well and he’d also not put any shoes on.  Both their feet had little smears of blood around the edges from the glass and ceramics they had stamped on whilst duelling.

   Draco didn’t reply.  He just blinked, his hand gripping his wand tightly, his jaw set.

   Harry felt a sinking sensation slip down his insides.  Was Draco freaking out?  Was he regretting what had happened between them?  Harry tried not to panic.  He knew this would almost certainly happen, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t let himself be hurt by it.  But he couldn’t help but feel desperate for Draco to say something, anything.

   His heart jumped as Draco opened his mouth…and then the alarms went off again.

   Harry snapped his head up at the soft ringing, designed to rouse them from sleep, but right now they shredded Harry’s nerves.  _Curse_ their timing.  “The Ministry,” he said, silencing them.  Then he looked at Draco’s naked torso, followed by his own.

   Without a word the two men left their prisoners unguarded for a moment as they raced back into the bedroom, snatching up clothes, healing their cut feet before shoving their boots back on.  Harry silently summoned the discarded condom and the lube, feeling a burn of shame as he hid them back in his bag, not caring about the mess they made.  He could deal with Draco not wanting to repeat their encounter, or wanting to keep it private, but did he really have to ignore him?  Make him feel like he’d done something disgusting?

   He was debating whether or not to say something as he whipped the sheets from the bed and dumped them in a pile on the floor, when by the sound of it the front door burst open, accompanied by a chorus of voices.

   “Harry?” Ron called out, and Harry left Draco in the bedroom without a second glance as he went to greet his partner.

   Ron and several of their colleagues were already in the living room, staring impressed at the crumpled masses of the Pontiacs.

   “Blimey mate,” Ron said enthusiastically.  “You’ve been busy.”

   _You have no idea,_ Harry thought ruefully.

 

***

 

   Harry wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing around making his statement.  It seemed like as soon as his finished talking to one department, another would pop up.  He and Draco hadn’t had a chance to get their story straight, so he was being as vague as possible about the hours they had spent in the cottage since their entrapment.  It didn’t help that the Curse Breakers had set up camp in the kitchen so Harry couldn’t see what was going on.

   He knew the case was more important, he knew he should have been jubilant that he’d finally caught his quarry after so many months of hard work, but he just couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, wishing he knew what Draco was thinking.

   “Hey,” said Ron, coming over and breaking him from his reverie.  “I think we might know why they came back to the house.”  He waved a small roll of parchment that Harry guessed had just been delivered by owl.

   That had been bothering Harry, and his interest piqued.  “Why?”

   “I reckon they didn’t think it was you that poking about.  I think they thought they were coming back for Mrs Hathaway.”

   Harry blinked.  “Mary Hathaway?  I assumed she was dead.”

   “Yeah,” Ron said, pleased and handing over the parchment.  “So did we.  Turns out she’s a tough old bird – she caused most of this damage when the Pontiacs arrived, before giving up and apparating away.  Her handbag was like that one Hermione used when we were looking for the Horcruxes, she had an emergency tent stored in there so she’s just been living out on the Isle of Skye.”

   “And she didn’t bother to tell anyone about it?” Harry marvelled, shaking his head.

   Ron shrugged.  “Locals reported her earlier today, apparently, she can’t see what the fuss is all about.”

   “But, the blood?”  Harry pointed to the splatter up the wall.

   Ron laughed.  “Apparently, the handbag packs a mean swing as well as camping gear.  The blood is Ourson Pontiac’s according to her statement.” 

   Harry puffed out a breath.  Well that was something.  He felt much better about having wild sex in her bed now she wasn’t dead.  Actually, maybe that made it worse.

   _Urgh,_ the whole thing was making him feel tired and irritable.  He just wanted to get away from this place, away from Draco.  If he wasn’t even going to look at him then he’d rather just not be here at all.

   “Do you think we’re done here?” Harry asked his superior Kingsley Shacklebolt.  The older man thought a moment and flicked through his notebook. 

   “I think you can relieve yourself for the night,” he conceded.  “We can carry on with the rest.”

   Harry gave him a nod, grateful, and turned back to Ron.  “See you tomorrow?” said his partner.

   “Tomorrow,” Harry agreed.  “Though I might take the morning off, get some sleep.  Give my love to Hermione?”

   “Always do,” Ron said, clapping his shoulder. 

   As he walked out into the corridor, Harry couldn’t help but glance towards the kitchen.  As luck was have it Draco was facing his way, with various people talking around him but he was still, perched against the counter top.  Their eyes met for just a moment, but there was no emotion behind Draco’s grey ones, and he quickly dropped them to the floor again.

   Harry squashed down the hurt and frustration.  Fine, he promised himself he wouldn’t be mad, so he wasn’t.

   Well he was, but maybe by tomorrow afternoon he might convince himself otherwise.

   He seized his cloak and his bag before heading outside.  Morning was threatening to break over the horizon and Harry sighed before twisting on the spot and apparating away. 

   He landed in his dark flat, and without bothering about anything else just sunk into the sofa, rubbing his hands over his face.  He sat there alone for a while, chewing his lip, still sore from the force of Draco’s passion.  After a while he decided he was just sad.  And disappointed.  The sex had been incredible, yes, but for Harry, to share something like that with someone who actually knew who he was was unique.  He just wished Draco respected him enough to be decent, he wasn’t stupid, he didn’t expect him to be his _boyfriend_ or something ludicrous like that. 

   Even as he thought it though, he knew that wasn’t entirely true.  He wanted to see Draco again, he wanted to spend more time with him.

   Instead, he stood once again, deciding not to sit around and mope.  He needed distraction, so until sleep came to him he thought he may as well be useful.  He threw his satchel over his shoulder again, and turned to the fireplace, chucking in a handful of Floo powder.  “The Ministry,” he said.  “Aurors Division.”

   The flames sped him away, and he was soon walking the familiar but quiet corridors of his work, letting himself into his and Ron’s office.  He could at least get his report down on parchment. 

   He flicked the lights on and settled down at his desk, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to start writing anything.  Perhaps if he looked back over his readings.

   He thought suddenly of his camera, and with a jolt realised he couldn’t remember picking it up before he left.  He quickly pulled open his bag to check, but as he feared it was missing.  He let out a frustrated sigh, dropping the satchel back down on the floor.  He was sure someone would have picked it up, he’d track it down later, he was just irritated about the inconvenience.

   He guessed he could still look over the photos he took earlier though, so he pulled his keys out from his pocket and unlocked the drawer where they would have appeared.

   He had indeed taken over a hundred of the various aspects of Mrs Hathaway’s cottage, and he intended to start sorting them by room so he could work on making his observations.  But he very quickly realised that the newest half a dozen photographs had not been taken by him.

   He let the others slide back into the drawer, and spread the six new ones out on his desk, careful to keep them in order, his heartbeats speeding up.  They were of words, hanging in the night air, written in fire with a _Flagrate_ charm Harry assumed.  The handwriting was elegant and looping, but Harry could still make out what had been said, four short lines on each picture:

 

   _Roses are red,_

   _Violets are blue._

_Last night was incredible,_

_So I want to thank you._

_Your heart is red,_

_And my blood runs green._

_But I think there is more,_

_To us than there seems._

_You showed me a part,_

_Of my soul that I missed._

_You woke it from slumber,_

_The moment we kissed._

_I know this is new,_

_But we can go slow._

_See day by day,_

_Where it might go._

_Old school rivals,_

_A thing of the past._

_I have a feeling,_

_This new phase might last._

_The morning has dawned,_

_You’ve opened the doors._

_I’ll give you my heart,_

_If you trust me with yours._

 

   Harry stared, his hand over his mouth, blinking back the tears that were threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

   “I was wondering,” a voice from the doorway began, making his head snap up.  “How long I’d have to wait.  Before you checked your drawer.”

   Draco Malfoy was propped up on the frame, Harry’s camera and a single red rose hanging between his slender fingers.  He tapped the green button, that showed that Harry had seen the pictures he’d obviously taken.

   “Hi,” said Harry softly.

   “Hi,” Draco said back.  He was still in the same shirt and trousers that Harry had relieved him of a few hours ago, his blond hair was tousled, he face pensive.  “I’m sorry.”

   Harry wasn’t sure what to say, so he looked back down at the collection of photos.  He felt rather than saw Draco push off the door frame, then walk towards his desk, pulling up Ron’s chair so he could sit facing him, leaning his elbows forward on his knees.  He placed the camera on the desk, but kept the rose between his fingers, careful to avoid the thorns. 

   “I freaked out,” he said simply, and Harry dared to look up and meet his eyes.  “I didn’t know what to say and I had about a million thoughts going round my head and I couldn’t work them out and things got crazy so I just chose not to say anything at all, and I’m sure that was confusing and hurtful.”  He swallowed and looked down at the rose.  “But I’m starting to get them straightened out now.”

   Harry traced his finger along the edge of the last photo.  “Do you really mean this?” he said, indicating the poem, not trusting himself to look up and just pulling at the corner of the image. 

   He felt Draco’s hand touch his knee, drawing his attention.  “Yes,” he said.  “I do.”  He smiled shyly, and held the rose out to Harry.  “I saved one for you,” he said quietly.  “I told them it was evidence.”

   Harry carefully took the flower.  “It is evidence,” he said meaningfully.  _Of us._

   “If you’d like,” Draco carried on, his fingers caressing lightly on Harry’s jeans.  “You could come over to my place.  We could talk?”

   Harry considered.  This could be complicated, this could be a bad idea, it could all end in heartache and scandal.

   But if it was anything like last night, it could also be absolutely amazing.

   “When?” he asked.

   “Now?” Draco suggested hopefully.

   “Sounds good to me.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

French Translations:

_Trouver cette femme!_ – Find that woman!

 

 _Je veux qu'elle meure_ – I want her to die

 

 _Vas te faire encule!_ – Fuck you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please review! To discover more of my writing, visit www.helenjuliet.com


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